Hear my silence,
listen to my cries,
for everyone thinks I am fine
with only the gesture of the face.
I love to share
but they stay not to listen,
if only my thoughts are written,
perhaps this burdens are lifted.
For my decease they will spend,
a happy celebration for my loss,
a big rant they will lavish,
them, a minister and a minstrel.
Don't care for my dead,
if my living disgust you.
A shoulder to cry upon
and a ear to listen,
would have lifted my yoke.
© Sam-crowned
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YOU ARE READING
HIDDEN THOUGHT
Poetrycries from my heart, words I wish all can hear, my worries and frustrations. who will listen?
